


Dancing On My Own

by astianhein



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: 3:00 AM Ideas, F/M, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Phantom of the Opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astianhein/pseuds/astianhein
Summary: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott(I wrote this because the idea can't stop bothering me.. and mosquitoes couldn't just let me sleep.)
Relationships: Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Dancing On My Own

It was the dead of night, no creature was to be awake at this hour except for ghosts and insects that settled themselves in the dark. One man, certainly not a ghost; sat in front of a pipe organ, fingers pressing the keys in an attempt to make a heavenly tune that even the angels up above would weep for.

A voice, hesitant and barely above a whisper caused his fingers to still over the ivory keys, waiting for the sound to echo once again from a certain passageway leading to the stage.

It doesn't continue, thus leaving him to ponder whether or not the lack of sleep has finally taken its toll on him. He places a porcelain mask over the right half of his face, the smooth and cool texture familiar on his calloused fingers. He didn't bother to wear his cape nor hat, perhaps it was curiosity or a sense of urgency that the voice would disappear. A simple white pirate shirt that exposed his scarred chest was tucked into black pants were the only clothes that he wore.

He exited a different passageway, moving cautiously as to not be seen by anyone, even though no one was awake at that ungodly hour. He blended in with the shadows, as if it was second nature to him; the darkness a second skin for the man. He reached Box Five, peering down on the lone woman that sat at the edge of the rostrum, swinging her legs in an almost childish manner. 

The moonlight fell upon her from a window, acting as a spotlight for her against the dark and empty stage. Erik observed her: ebony hair slid down her back smoothly, complementing the tanned skin that gleamed slightly under the rays of the moon. Long, dark lashes protected the jewels that were as bright as the blue sky yet dark as the stormy sea; gradient. She wore a plain white button-up shirt that was tucked into trousers that hugged her hips perfectly, a black suit jacket hung over her shoulders and a royal blue necktie tied loosely under the folds of her collar. Lastly, what accompanied her peculiar choice of clothing was black, square-toes shoes.

She bobbed her head, as if listening to something. Erik thought it to be related to the two strands of wire placed in her ears and connected to a rectangular device. Suddenly, her mouth parted and she burst into song:

_I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh_

_I'm right over here, why can't you see me? Oh_

_And I'm giving it my all_

_I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh_

_I keep dancing on my own, ah_

His memories of Christine and Raoul kissing fervently at the rooftop, against the snow that fell upon them like fairy dust— and him hiding behind a gargoyle statue, heart sinking and shattering to a million pieces– flashed in his mind. 

It was a bitter memory that he would rather not delve into. It's been two years after that whole ordeal, after all.

_So far away, but still so near_

_The lights come on, the music dies_

_But you don't see me standing here_

Her voice cracks, not the embarrassing kind (thankfully). His attention snapped back towards her, seeing her gnawing at her lip and gripping the fabric of her trousers around the knees. Tears needn't be seen, for with the raging whirlwind of emotions she sang through those lyrics— it was crystal clear that her heart had been broken. 

He sauntered down from his Box, purposefully letting the heels of his dress shoes clack and echo around the vacant area. He does not know why he did, maybe because he sensed kinship between them? Both being a victim of unrequited love might do that to a person. Her head turned towards him when he finally descended, her hair whipping from behind her due to the abrupt action. The hazy and cold glimmer from the moon kissed her skin gently, casting soft shadows upon her face as she stood up. 

Her face painted confusion and shock, unaware that there was an audience among the rows of deserted red velvety seats. He treaded carefully towards her, much like a cat wanting to satiate its curiosity; unaware of the impending danger. And when he finally reached her, he stood right across from her, the small space granting access to a crystalline view of each other. 

He bent down to take her hand in his and brushed his lips against her knuckles; as light as a feather. He looked up at her over the hand he held. 

"Mademoiselle."

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh.. hope you enjoyed my sleep deprived writing. :DD
> 
> Tbh, the features of the woman just kinda popped up in my head, she really wasn't an OC of mine or smth.


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